Monday, November 29, 2010

This Thanksgiving, I was given the fortunate opportunity to gorge myself on my mother's, mother-in-law's, and wife's cooking all in the same evening. This is the game I played:

I'm not usually one to brag, but I can say with near 100% certainty that you who are reading this did not eat as well as I did. Unless you were there...and some of you were!

There are, however, dangers in eating until your belt snaps. I have described the primary one in this comic I made over the holiday:

Be careful! You never know where the carnivorous aliens will be lurking, so don't give them an excuse to eat you!

The end of Thanksgiving always makes me a little sad, because I have in my family so many great cooks. I will now wax poetic, in honor of the food they so lovingly prepared. Deep breath...okay, here we go:

Sadly, Thanksgiving is over, and the desperate retooling of leftovers has begun. Uneaten drumsticks have been hacked into turkey salad sandwiches, and the warm pumpkin pie that graced the dessert table now turns up cold with our morning coffee. My lunch yesterday consisted of crumbling mashed potatoes and desiccated cranberry relish; old, tired, soldiering on to their final gastric destination. I blessed them on their journey through my lower intestine and, as I ate, recalled them as they were - the potatoes fluffy and moist, the relish juicy and tart. And as nostalgia's mellow sweetness bloomed on my palette, I thought, this is how we should remember our friends - in their prime.